


The End is a New Beginning

by bees_stories



Category: Supernatural
Genre: End of the World, Having Faith, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bees_stories/pseuds/bees_stories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has done all an angel can do and still the Earth has fallen into ruin and chaos. Now, he's reached the end of his rope and is facing down failure. It's the ultimate test of his faith; bigger than the apocalypse. Bigger than the trial of the Leviathan. And he has to face it alone. (General and generic spoilers for up to season eight. After that is anyone's guess.)<br/>A/N: Written for the hurt comfort bingo prompt: 'planet destruction'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End is a New Beginning

***

Castiel trembled under his burden, his will and determination to carry on in the face of defeat finally crumbling. He had tried. Maybe, even for a short time, he had succeeded, rallying other angels to his desperate cause. But that meant nothing now. Ultimately, he had failed. His will and determination hadn't been enough to hold together a planet that had fallen into chaos and anarchy, where even demons had recoiled in shame and revulsion at the destruction they had helped to create.

As for the angels … 

A piece of the African continent threatened to fall away. Castiel re-focused his intention, dragging the landmass back into place before it could slip from the influence of the increasingly weakening gravitational field. The planet was going to break apart. Nothing he could do would change that. All he was doing by holding on was delaying the inevitable. After all, as Death had once so callously and coolly informed him; he was no God.

But God with a big G or not, he was all they had left. Those people down there. The ones that Death had abandoned after even he became overwhelmed. The ones that Reapers had despaired over, because they could do nothing to ease the suffering. The Reapers had watched, impotent, until they too fled in shame, leaving only a handful of lesser gods and other immortals to do what they could. It was the humans, innocent of any crime other than being dropped into a situation of which they had no way of comprehending, that allowed Castiel to endure. It was for them he rallied the last remaining angels to his cause; throwing a protective ring around the Earth to hold it, and the souls of those humans, in place until Father returned. Because despite what seemed to be an insurmountable mountain of evidence that God was dead or had left of his own volition for parts unknown, Castiel still refused to believe they had been abandoned. Despite everything, in his heart of hearts, his faith was unbroken. 

It had been easier when the other angels had helped shoulder the burden. They kept one another's doubts at bay and buoyed each other's spirits with stories about the days when Heaven truly was paradise. But one by one the others had faltered, and then fallen, giving what remained of their grace to those that held the line as a final act of contrition for the devastation their ill-conceived actions had wrought on those they were meant to shepherd and protect. 

Castiel knew his time was coming. If he could have, he would have wept. Wept for the people he had grown to love. Wept for the brothers and sisters who had fallen before him. Wept for the planet that had been an innocent victim of the hubris and ambition of those who inhabited it and should have known better. He might have even shed a tear or two for himself, not because he was afraid of dying, but because even though he believed God lived and had not abandoned them, he no longer believed in miracles. 

Below, as Castiel strength faltered, the Earth trembled. "I'm sorry," he whispered as his grip slackened, setting off a swarm of tiny earthquakes. "I'm so, so, sorry. Father, if you're listening, I tried, but the burden, it's just too great." 

Though in his current form Castiel no longer had eyes to close, he remembered the gesture as a fitting one as he prepared to let go. Perhaps his grace, if he willed it to surround the Earth, would keep the pieces together just a little longer, and those extra moments of existence would be his final gift to those he had once sworn to protect and serve. 

The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders, (Or what he thought of as his shoulders. It was funny how attached he had become to having a corporeal form.) And for the first time in a millennium Castiel felt no fear and no remorse. He was finally, truly, at peace. He looked down upon the Earth and gasped, awestruck by what he observed. 

The Earth was reforming; the shards and pieces fitting themselves together like parts in a gigantic three dimensional puzzle. 

A giddy sense of relief flooded over Castiel. Here, at the end of his existence, when he had accepted the profound nature of his failures and abandoned all hope, he was presented with a miracle. What else could it be? Unless, in the moment of his death, this was a final comforting delusion that his suffering and sacrifice had meant something, easing his guilt and make his passing more bearable. Had all his brothers and sisters been so comforted, Castiel wondered as the billowing gray clouds of smoke and ash dissipated, leaving a view of pristine blue-green oceans and brown-green landmasses behind. 

_"You always were curious."_

The voice rumbled like far-away thunder, and yet there was no condemnation in the words, only faint amusement and maybe a touch of pride. Confused, and not yet daring himself to be hopeful, Castiel whispered, "Father?"

_"Yes, Castiel, it is I and not, I see, a moment too soon. Apocalypse. War. A second apocalypse. You have been busy in my absence."_

Profound relief wasn't meant to reside contentedly side by side with an equally profound sense of anger, not even in an angel's breast. Castiel framed and discarded question after question until finally he settled on the most fundamental. "Why?" he asked. And although he tried – this was his father, God Almighty he was speaking to after all – he could not keep all the bitterness he felt out of his tone as he thought of the blasted Earth and equally ruined Heaven. 

His father didn't answer. But then again, he didn't need to. Castiel knew the answer. His father had endowed both men and angels with free will. Periodically, he loosened the reins and stepped back, observing his children and the decisions they made when there was no guiding hand to stay their most base instincts. But God had never, as far as Castiel knew, given angels and humans their autonomy at the same time. This was a test and all of God's children; angel and human, had failed. Instead of uniting as a family the archangels had fought amongst themselves to fill the power vacuum their Father's absence had created. And the rest of them had played straight into the demons' hands, tempted into perdition by empty promises. 

_"Lessons learned for us all, I'm afraid,"_ God said. He sounded resigned to the shortcomings of his creations and perhaps even himself. After all, he was omniscient. He must have known they were doomed to failure, and yet he had tested them anyway. Castiel felt his own failings even more acutely than he had before, ashamed on behalf of them all. 

Castiel had the sense that an arm had been placed around his shoulders and that he was being embraced and comforted. _"I heard your prayers, Castiel. When you asked for strength and courage to carry on, I gave them to you, just as I gave strength and comfort to others who kept their covenant with me. Those who, despite the evidence of a crumbling world, never truly believed that their father had abandoned them."_

Far below them, clouds formed over the Earth. In the Northern Hemisphere a gentle rain began to fall, filling desiccated lakes and rivers and softening the parched land. 

The tired and thirsty people stared up at the sky and a few – those who were still capable of awe – wept at the miracle. Outside of what had once been Lawrence, Kansas, Dean Winchester stared in open disbelief at the rapidly changing landscape. He watched with a sense of unease gnawing at his guts as a dead apple orchard burst into full bloom and filled the air with the sweet scent of new life. 

"Sammy!" Dean bellowed at his brother. "You are so not going to believe this!" 

God sighed. _"But now, Castiel, there is much work to do."_

Castiel sighed as well. As much as he wanted to help. As comforted as he was by his father's presence, he was weary from his many labors. 

God radiated kindness, and if he possessed the large and ponderous head depicted in so many religious paintings he would have shook it gently. _"Not you, Castiel. You need to rest after your great trial. Go in peace, my son. And know that your father loves you."_

A profound feeling of well-being suffused Castiel. He felt it down to the core of his existence. In a wingbeat his agonies became a dim memory. His exhaustion disappeared and in its place was a giddy feeling of joy as he was physically transported.

He materialized in a green field of sprouting wheat near an apple orchard in full bloom. He looked around and saw people still raggedly clothed and pinched from privation. These were the downtrodden survivors of a blasted planet. They fell to their knees and lifted their hands in joyous thanksgiving as a gentle rain fell upon them. Castiel searched for and found the man whose destiny it had been to become a pawn in a cosmic chess game, but who had instead fought back, still playing the game, but on his own terms. He was standing next to his brother, looking around and assessing the risk of this new and unexpected development. Sam was smiling, always the first to see the positive, unlike his scowling and jaded brother. 

Castiel broke into a trot, his joy giving his feet wings. But after a few yards he forced himself to slow. He had been away a long time and he didn't want his sudden reappearance to be a cause for alarm. At least that's what he told himself. The truth was, he was afraid. Dean's prayers in the days before the final assault had been increasingly angry and desperate. He'd accused Castiel of abandoning them when they needed him most. Cas had wanted to answer – to offer comfort and assurances – but timing, as usual, had been against them. As much as he wanted to explain, saying goodbye would have meant risking everything. Afterward, once the ring was in place, in his worn and battered condition Castiel found listening to Dean unbearable. Regretfully he finally turned away, muting a voice that he had once been eager to hear no matter how profane the prayer might have been.

He took a breath. Father said there would be peace and reconciliation. Now was not the time to foster doubt. He took another breath and let it out again, consciously forcing his trip-hammering heart to slow and strode, purposely and with intention, forward. 

"Hello, Dean. Sam." 

"Cas!" Sam's smile, if anything, got even brighter. 

Dean stared, as if he didn't believe his eyes. Finally he swore softly, "Son of a bitch." And then he cleared his throat and said, "Cas, where the hell have you been?"

Tension made the air molecules between them seem heavy. Or maybe that the was the moisture from the persistent drizzle. Either way, Castiel felt the weight of Dean's gaze upon his face, studying him intensely. "Holding the world together," he replied. It was, after all, the truth. 

"You did a hell of a job." 

Cas knew Dean's special brand of sarcasm well. Over the years he'd become versed in all of its nuances. But this time, he let the barb ride over his back. His father had approved of his actions. In time, when Dean had absorbed the enormity of what Castiel and the others had done, he would as well. "Thank you," Castiel replied.

He smiled, savoring the imperfect homecoming as Sam chuckled and Dean shook his head, muttered, "Fine. Be a mysterious douche," under his breath, and then drew Castiel into a bear hug that put paid to any doubts that in his absence he had been sorely missed.

end


End file.
